


Like Home

by wordsliketeeth



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Choking, Creampie, Established Relationship, F/M, Rough Sex, Short One Shot, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:02:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24480970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordsliketeeth/pseuds/wordsliketeeth
Summary: "To an outside observer, you'd appear to be a picture-perfect couple, sugar and caramel, and all things sweet until he bodily shoves you up against a wall and tears the fabric of your top away from your skin in a single, abrupt tug. You frown and cavil about how you liked that shirt before he silences your protest with a rough and wet open-mouthed kiss." Nebuya comes home from practice and you're more than happy to greet him at the front door.
Relationships: Nebuya Eikichi/Reader
Kudos: 32





	Like Home

You hear the front door open and you're jumping up from the couch before it clicks shut, your feet sounding down the hall as you rush to greet your boyfriend. You wrap your arms around his neck and let him lift you easily into his arms, strength and hard muscle and years of definition all the gravity you need to keep you upright.

You can't help but smile each time you try to get your arms around his shoulders because you swear he comes home boasting more bulk and brawn each day. You wrap your legs around his waist and giggle when his stubble brushes over the juncture of your neck and shoulder. He shares in your amusement with a booming chuckle as he shifts his hands to the curve of your ass, fingers groping and squeezing playfully.

You can tell that he's freshly showered by the clean notes of his favorite soap and correlative cologne: sharp peppermint, blood orange, cinnamon, and nutmeg, to name a few. You shamelessly nose his skin and inhale his scent while he plants a trail of kisses up the smooth column of your throat.

To an outside observer, you'd appear to be a picture-perfect couple, sugar and caramel, and all things sweet until he bodily shoves you up against a wall and tears the fabric of your top away from your skin in a single, abrupt tug. You frown and cavil about how _you liked that shirt_ before he silences your protest with a rough and wet open-mouthed kiss.

You slip your tongue into his mouth as you fail to wrap your mind around anything other than the fact that this man owns you. He makes you feel things you never thought imaginable, from the surface of your skin all the way down to your core. He's your day and your night, he's the air that you breathe and the desire that you crave—he's your cult leader, your tequila sunrise, the very blood that runs hot through your veins. It may seem egregious or unreasonable to some, but this man imbues you with life and love and happiness poles apart from anything you had ever experienced before meeting him.

You nibble on the plush bottom line of his mouth and in turn, he tugs on yours hard enough to pull a whimper past the damp of your lips. Your chest is exposed save for a thin layer of fabric that does little to hide the hardening nubs beneath, the air around you making you shiver despite the wealth of heat sticking to your skin.

Nebuya turns away from the wall and carries you over to a nearby sofa. He tosses you down onto its thick cushions and drapes himself over your body with lightning speed. His considerable frame casts you in darkness and when you open your mouth to speak, it feels like you're swallowing more than the shadow he's blanketing you in.

His fingers cut off whatever it is you wanted to say, warm and calloused on your jaw. His grip is tight and unyielding, balanced on the edge of a threat that he wouldn't dare see through. It's just enough pressure to push your heart into a state of awareness, a thrum that challenges the hitch of your pulse. It's stimulating and blood-tingling and you love every second of it.

“Save the talk for later, babygirl,” Nebuya says, almost growling the words into sound as he releases your jaw and hurriedly tugs your bottoms down your legs. He tosses the material over his shoulder with no care as to where it lands. After the first time you had sex with him, he told you, with a crooked smile and a gleam in his eye, to stop wearing panties unless he asked you to—which you later came to understand as only wearing the high-quality lingerie _he_ purchased for you. You were hesitant at first but now you can't recall the last time you voluntarily slipped on a pair of the underwear you keep in the topmost drawer of the dresser you share.

Without further ado, Nebuya slips two thick fingers inside of your cunt. His mouth tilts on a smirk when he discovers how wet you are, his lips moving on a comment that gets lost to the room. You narrow your eyes, an equal mix of irritation and arousal burning through you as a result of his put-on display of arrogance—like he's already won a game that has yet to be played. And it's at that moment when you consider yourself lucky that your body is already in a state of preparation because Nebuya never takes the time to find out before slipping _something_ inside of you.

You reach out and curl your fingers against his broad shoulder, nails digging into his sun-warm umber skin as he replaces his fingers with his cock, throbbing and thick as he slides his way into your lithe body. His movements are volatile and erratic, and like with most things, he moves with reckless abandon. The way he fucks into you leaves you feeling thoroughly atrophied by the habits of a lifetime in only a matter of minutes.

You're grateful that your neighbors are long in the teeth and the odds of them hearing your cries of pleasure are almost nil. Otherwise, you'd surely have the police knocking on your door citing an infraction and words about disturbing the peace.

It doesn't take long for you to reach the perilous heights of your subversion, and when Nebuya presses his hand against the hollow of your throat to steal your oxygen, you plunge headlong into the misty waters of oblivion.

Your body trembles with the aftershocks of your climax as you come back down to the ground, Nebuya's release dripping down the inside of your thigh. The cool and ticklish sensation makes you feel unusually vulnerable but you believe that it's due in part to the fact that you can't even remember when he capitulated to his body's commands. He steals your focus and you gift him your breath, and it's all just enough to make you feel crazy.

However, when you close your eyes and focus on the rapid beat of your heart, you know that you wouldn't trade your current position for anything in the world.

It's enough to be young and in love.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


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